The First Commandment

CHAPTER 78

It was in the low seventies when Harvath stepped off the plane at Rio’s Antonio Carlos Jobim International Airport. His sense of purpose had returned and his earlier desire to disappear into the wilds of Brazil faded. He was anxious to get to work.

Using the false passport he’d removed from his safe-deposit box in D.C., he cleared customs and passport control as a German national by the name of Hans Brauner. The passport was invaluable. Not only did it allow him to travel without being tracked by any American intelligence agencies, but traveling as an EU national allowed him to enter Brazil without a visa, something he wouldn’t have been able to do had he been traveling on an American passport.

Bypassing the RDE taxi desk, he headed straight to the Rio de Janeiro State Tourism desk and bought a prepaid taxi voucher. The last thing he needed right now was to deal with one of the city’s notoriously unscrupulous cab drivers.

After sliding into a cab and giving the driver his destination, Harvath leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He’d been on planes or switching between them for the last eleven hours. He was looking forward to checking into his hotel and getting a shower, as well as a little sleep, but there was work to do first.

The driver took the Linha Vermelha road toward the city. His speeding and lane changing were perfectly choreographed to the local Funk Carioca music pumping out of the boom box taped to his elaborately decorated dashboard.

The American Express office was located beneath the Copacabana Palace Hotel on Avenida Atlântica directly across from the world-famous Copacabana Beach.

Getting out of the cab, Harvath turned his back on the blue-green waters and scantily clad bronzed bodies and headed inside. He used a house phone to contact the American Express office to inquire whether his FedEx package had arrived yet. It had.

After checking in at the front desk and getting his key, he headed down to Amex to retrieve his parcel. He changed a few thousand dollars into reals and then returned to the lobby where he asked the concierge to organize a helicopter tour for him.

Up in his room, Harvath tossed the FedEx box onto the bed and dropped his bag near the desk. He walked over to the windows, drew back the sheer curtains, and opened them up. Placing his palms against the sill, he leaned outside.

The view was amazing. The four-kilometer-long beach was covered with people. The salty smell of the ocean poured into the room. Looking at the waves as they crashed upon the beach, Harvath was almost sorry he hadn’t brought a bathing suit.

Pulling his head back inside, he crossed to the bathroom and started the shower. After hanging up his clothes, he climbed in and lost all track of time as he let the hot water pound against his body.

Normally, he would have finished his shower by turning the water all the way to cold — a maneuver he found even more refreshing than a cup of espresso — but not today. Today he needed to get caught up on his sleep.

Standing on the soft bathmat, he dried off and then headed for the king-sized bed. He put a do-not-disturb on the phone, drew back the sheets, and lay down.

Closing his eyes, he listened to the music of the cars and beachgoers below as he plunged into sleep.